


A Chapter a Day

by BerityBaker



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, John Plays Rugby, M/M, One Shot, Sherlock Dances, Student John, Student Sherlock, University Student Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9454436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerityBaker/pseuds/BerityBaker
Summary: Sherlock and John are the cutest couple at their university. (A series of one-shots, with attempted daily updates.)





	1. A Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is a project to get me writing regularly. The goal is to write a chapter every day, no matter how long or short it may be. Perhaps this will turn into a story; perhaps not. I just wanted to get back into writing fic (or, you know, writing in general), and college AUs are typically my favorites. But there's no point in keeping all the fluff to myself, and it would be nice to be held accountable, so here we are! Enjoy my portrayal of our boys and their young adult shenanigans.

John had discovered quickly that between rugby and studying, it was difficult to maintain a relationship. Especially with a boyfriend as needy as his.

Some people would have assumed Sherlock was distant and even a bit cold. Those people didn't get to see him as he was now, with his head in John's lap and his legs curled up to his chest. It was the third Saturday of the month, which meant a movie night.

They had spent the summer chipping away at the long list of films Sherlock had neglected to see in his twenty years of life. John was delighted to find that he took rather a liking to several of them; his favorites so far were  _The Silence of the Lambs_ and  _The Princess Bride_. Tonight, though, they were watching  _Dirty Dancing_ , and if Sherlock's attentiveness was anything to go by, his top two films were likely to become a top three.

John absently stroked Sherlock's hair with one hand, tucking a bit of it behind his ear to expose the highest point of his cheekbone. He let the pads of his fingers tap lightly and rhythmically against it, pausing every few taps to run the length of it gently, letting himself enjoy the smooth skin of Sherlock's face in a way he wasn't used to. Usually he was under Sherlock's gaze, held by an intense stare of some kind, whether it was the calculating look of a great mind trying to solve a puzzle or one of those softly passionate stares that only John seemed to truly recognize for what they were. But now, with Sherlock focused so intently on the movie, John was able to appreciate his face in new ways, without being distracted by the intensity of his eyes.

He rested a finger on the tiniest of freckles near Sherlock's temple. He held on to his ear lobe for a moment before moving on to his lips. He was rewarded by a swift kiss to the palm of his hand, and he mentally added Patrick Swayze to the list of people he felt like he needed to thank for the best things in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great start. I procrastinated an assignment and started falling asleep at my laptop. Anyway, see you tomorrow!


	2. Zoo

Sherlock never _said_ he liked the zoo, but he did. He loved the zoo. One of his favorite things about John was that he didn't always have to say that he liked doing something; he would just notice. And John would take him to the zoo.

They were walking past the giraffe enclosure when Sherlock took his hand. That was another thing he loved, holding John's hand while they were out in public. He wanted everybody to know who John was, that they were there together, that his joke was the one that John was laughing at.

Sherlock had always loved the zoo. As a child, Mycroft would take him to see the reptiles and he would study them for hours, searching for the camouflaged ones, shouting with joy when he found one he'd read about. Naturally, the reptile house was his favorite place.

More and more, though, he found himself enjoying the big cats. He knew why; it wasn't like he would ever deny that John's fascination with them was as adorable as it was fascinating in itself. He was grateful for the privilege of watching John watch tigers being trained with eyes wide like they didn't belong to a 22-year-old medical student.

"John," Sherlock said, nearly in a whisper, so as not to ruin the moment. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"

John chuckled, but the little stars remained in his eyes. "No, actually. Can you guess?"

"Zoologist?"

John shook his head.

"Veterinary doctor?"

John grinned wider. "Zookeeper."

Sherlock blinked. "You wanted to be a zookeeper?"

"Don't act like that's some outlandish dream, Captain Sherlock."

"I was first mate, I'll have you know! The responsibilities of captaining a pirate ship are far too tedious for me."

John rolled his eyes. "'Tedious,'" he mimicked.

Sherlock squeezed his hand indignantly. "Well, Mr. Zookeeper, what changed your mind?"

John shrugged. "Decided I wanted to help people?"

"Zookeepers help people."

"How so?"

"We wouldn't have zoos without zookeepers. Or at the very least, they would be much less enjoyable."

"I'm afraid it's a bit late to change career paths now."

"Nonsense. If you want to be a zookeeper, be a zookeeper," Sherlock teased.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I do still rather like the idea of being a doctor." He smiled up at Sherlock. "We'll just have to come see the tigers more often."

"Sure."

"But of course we'll have to stop by the reptile house. That's the most important."


	3. Sherlock Gets a Call

Sherlock was walking out of class when his phone began to vibrate. He stopped when he saw an unfamiliar number and stared at it for a few seconds before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sherlock? You're John's emergency contact and--"

"What? What do you mean? What's happened, where is he?"

"Sherlock--"

"Where is he?" Sherlock demanded.

"Er, we're still on the pitch. But, um, Sherlock it's--"

Sherlock was already hanging up his phone and didn't hear the rest of what the man on the other line said. He burst outside and sprinted to the athletic fields.

When he arrived, he found John sitting on the bench and laughing, holding his wrist against a bag full of ice. Sherlock glanced from John's smile to his arm and sighed with relief and exasperation.

"Sherlock!" John smiled wider when he saw him, and waved him over with his free hand.

"What happened?"

"I tried to tell you, it's just a sprained wrist," a nearby teammate said, sheepishly holding up his phone. Sherlock recognized him as John's co-captain.

"Yeah, Fitzgerald says you hung up on him," John chirped.

"Well, I was worried!" He rounded on Fitzgerald. "You can't just start a conversation with 'you're listed as your boyfriend's emergency contact' and expect me to be calm."

John jumped in to save him. "I would at least expect you to be rational."

"Regardless, I suppose you'd like me to take you to A&E?"

"Yes, please. Also"--he stood and kissed Sherlock on the cheek, cradling his arm carefully--"how was your day?"

One of John's teammates let out a loud and exaggerated " _awww_ ," and Sherlock turned to glare good-naturedly at him before answering. "Fine. We'll talk about it on the way."

John said goodbye to his team, assuring them he would keep them posted on his injury. "I don't expect it'll be that bad," he told Sherlock. "Just looks like a mild sprain. Better safe than sorry, though."

Sherlock insisted on carrying John's bag, and they set out on the short walk to the hospital. He knew that although he would have liked to, John was in no position to argue.

"Lectures tomorrow are going to be hell. Can't believe I fell on my left hand."

"You know, I don't have any lectures tomorrow. I could go with you to take notes."

"I could get them from a classmate, Sherlock."

Sherlock made a face.

"Or you could go with me to take notes," John conceded. He smirked. "You just want to spend the day with me tomorrow, don't you?"

"I miss the summer holidays when we got to be together all the time!" Sherlock whined.

"It's been a week!"

"Exactly! I can't be expected to go cold turkey."

"What, am I a drug?"

"Might as well be."

"Aw, sweetheart," John laughed.

Sherlock blushed. "I mean. You're not a drug."

"Then what am I?"

"You're my boyfriend. And I feel as though my boyfriend should stop teasing me or he might find himself alone at A&E."

"That's an empty threat."

"How do you know?"

"Twenty minutes ago you came running without even asking what was wrong," John pointed out.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Fair point."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is one that will definitely continue for at least one more day. Because we've gotta see Sherlock trying to take notes for John, right? (What a doof.)


	4. After A&E

Sherlock ran his finger along the fastenings of John's splint and huffed. The doctor had told him to wear the splint for one week, and to check back in soon. Now they were lying in bed with their discarded trousers next to the door.

"It's not that bad, Sherlock. And it's  _my_ wrist."

"Of course it's your wrist. But one-handed sex doesn't even have the appeal of being interesting in this context."

"What happened to all of your doting concern?"

"I'm still concerned. But you could allow me a little selfishness."

John kissed him. "It'll be back to normal in no time."

"We hope."

John's eyes flicked over Sherlock's shoulder to the bedside table. "You know what?" John swung his leg over both of Sherlock's and used the bounce of the mattress to straddle him without leaning on his injury. He leaned down and kissed him again, but this time he used the added leverage to trap both Sherlock's wrists above his head with his good hand. "I'm gonna show you that it doesn't matter," he muttered against Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock shuddered. "Are you?"

"Mhmmm." John let go of Sherlock's arms just long enough to reach over to the table and retrieve the tie he'd left there two days before. He felt all the air leave Sherlock's lungs when he saw what John was doing.

"Oh?"

John didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow and, anticipating the difficulty of tying a strong knot with his sprained wrist, scooted up Sherlock's body so that he was straddling his chest, and used his teeth to tighten the tie around his wrists. As he was leaned over, Sherlock cheekily nipped at the bits of his abdomen that were exposed when his shirt rode up.

When John finished, he sat back and admired his work for a moment before looking down at Sherlock's intrigued expression. "No hands at all," he said simply.

"No hands at all?" Sherlock repeated.

John grinned and nodded.

"Then what about that one?" Sherlock pointed his head toward John's good hand.

John sat and thought for a moment. "What if I just promise not to use it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm already at a disadvantage! Besides, if I'm on top, how am I gonna move if I'm restrained?"

"Who said you'd be on top of me?"

"What?"

Before John could react, Sherlock had flipped them both over, so that he was lying on his stomach, his chest between John's legs, his elbows on either side of his pelvis. His hands were bound into a prayerful pose right at the waistband of John's boxers. They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

His breathing already heavy from laughing, Sherlock struggled to propel himself up John's body by curling his toes and catching his sock feet on the loose blanket. John wasn't about to complain; the maneuver meant Sherlock was dragging his body along John's bit by bit, with the focus of his mission getting out of the pit between John's legs, making his slow ascent that much more rewarding.

By the time his forearms rested on either side of John's head and his hips lay slotted along John's, he was panting into John's mouth. "Simple," he said breathlessly. "Two can play at the domination game."

John burst out laughing again. This time, Sherlock ground down his hips and shut him up. Their lips met, and they engaged in a funny little sensual wriggle. John was lying on top of his good hand, and he was constantly aware of the splint on his other, if only because Sherlock's biceps flexed over and over around his face as he instinctively tried to pull his hands apart.

The rest of his mind was occupied by the sensation of dry-humping his boyfriend hands-free. It was like being seven years younger in a parallel dimension. Sherlock rutted against him with the head of his cock peeking over the waistband of his underwear and his shirt rucked up around his ribs, so that their bare stomachs were in constant contact, and their chests heaved in time with their movements and each other.

"Christ," John murmured. He could feel the sensation building, and when Sherlock's hips started moving frantically, he knew he would be gone soon.

"John," Sherlock said, smashing their mouths together again and groaning.

That did it. John came in his pants. He didn't count how many times he muttered Sherlock's name as he did, but he guessed it was upwards of ten.

Sherlock was still moving. "Stop," John commanded.

That got an immediate reaction from Sherlock; he'd known it would. Sherlock's face popped up from John's neck, and his hips stopped thrusting. His lips were swollen and red from both John and himself biting them, hanging open as if he'd just been slapped.

"Hang on." John flipped them over again, kicking Sherlock's legs apart. He wriggled himself down to crotch level and didn't waste a second pulling aside Sherlock's waistband with his teeth and taking him into his mouth.

Sherlock gasped, and then groaned. His hips stuttered upward, threatening to hit John in the nose, so he dug his elbows lightly into the flesh of Sherlock's inner thighs to keep him down. It worked, and Sherlock seemed to enjoy it even more than he'd expected. His legs pressed upward against John's elbows over and over, and each time they did, Sherlock let out a moan that seemed a bit louder than the others.

When Sherlock came, it was with a loud thump on the wall as his arms stretched out and his hands--now joined into a ball of fists--hit the headboard. John looked up at him in surprise. He could feel a bit of come about to drip from his chin.

"You alright?"

Sherlock took a couple breaths before smiling and answering. "Yes."

John laughed quietly as he lifted himself up and reached out to untie the tie. "Good?"

"Mmm," Sherlock replied. "But could we actually get all our clothes off first next time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the impromptu hiatus. I bought the entire Hey Arnold! series on DVD.
> 
> ...And then I had finals. And then I graduated.
> 
> I'm gonna get back into it, though! I've been working on another project every day, so hopefully I can give a little time to this every day, too. This will be the side-project I wanted it to be, dammit!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can always find me (maybe to suggest something for a future chapter, or even just to say hi) at [holdencaulfieldin221b](http://holdencaulfieldin221b.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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